


One More Fight

by Idreamofhazel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Deceased Parents, F/M, Grief, Song fic, based on a The 1975 song, don't forget the angst, the missing year in purgatory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-08 23:33:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18904906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idreamofhazel/pseuds/Idreamofhazel
Summary: Sam tells Dean what happened to him while Dean was in purgatory.Inspiration: Robbers by The 1975“It’s the sentiment…that appeals to me, the hopelessly romantic notion that two people can meet and instantly fall in love, an escape story where love is the highest law and conquers all against the odds. … ‘Robbers’ is an ode to those relationships. The type of relationship all humans long for. All or nothing. This [song] is about when love makes two people feel they are the centre of the universe.”  -Matty HealyOriginally posted March 2016 on Tumblr.





	One More Fight

Even after a year in purgatory, Dean knew when Sam wasn’t ok. Sam was incredibly happy to see Dean and their reunion was the same as any other time one of them had died, or been close to it, but when Dean asked Sam what he had been up to while he was gone, he got a shifting gaze and “hunting” as the only detail.

“Sam, look, I can tell when you’re not telling me everything. I know something happened this year. If you want to forget about it, then fine. I won’t ask again. But I know you like to talk about this kind of thing, so, I’m here if you need me.”

That aching pain began to fill Sam’s chest and gut all over again. He turned away from Dean to avoid revealing to him just how hard everything had been. He wanted to forget, to pretend like it didn’t happen, but he knew that would just make the grief worse. Maybe talking to Dean would help give him some closure. If anything, at least his brother would know why he didn’t go looking for him. He deserved an explanation.

“Ok. Yeah, I’ll just,” Sam took a deep breath, “start from the beginning.”

* * *

Your life sucked. And that was an understatement. Your story was a cliche one: parents dead in some freak accident, no other family, tossed from foster home to foster home. You never grew roots, not that you stayed anywhere long enough for that to be a possibility anyway. Everywhere you lived, everyone thought you were crazy. You had theories about your parents’ death that involved “supernatural” things and you weren’t shy about them, so you didn’t have friends. You were a drifter.

The day you turned eighteen you walked right out the door of your latest foster home, drew in a breath of freedom, and walked on your way. Or at least, you thought you had finally found freedom. Living on your own was no walk in the park, though. Motels became your home and you swindled money from guys in bars or playing poker or pool in order to pay for the rooms and food. Sometimes you did “favors” for men for a steep price. That was only when you were the most desperate though. Every once in awhile you’d find a boyfriend you could live with for awhile, but they all ended up being jerks anyway so you left them. For years, you wandered aimlessly through your sorry-excuse-for-a-life until one night, the tallest drink of water you ever saw walked into a bar and sat himself down on a barstool. Your lips had pursed into a silent whistle. Your eyes attached to his figure and wouldn’t let go. That night was one of those desperate nights. You hadn’t eaten in two days. The motel owner was expecting payment for tonight’s stay. This guy was alone and drinking something strong. Maybe he needed a release. You let him be for awhile, observing him as he ordered one too many drinks. Now was your chance.

You glided over to the seat next to his, sitting and turning towards him as you asked, “What’s the tragedy tonight, handsome?”

A bit startled, he looked at you with inquisitive, sad eyes. “My brother…he’s dead.” The words came out strained and sorrowful.

Crap. You’d expected some sad story about a girlfriend. This was not your usual catch.

“Oh, man, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be a jerk or anything. What happened?” Why the heck did you ask that? Surely this guy wouldn’t want to spill the details of his grief to some chick at a bar, but surprisingly he opened up to you. Maybe it was the liquor.

“Freak accident, I guess. There was these levi…no, no, I shouldn’t be telling you this.” He looked away.

You couldn’t just drop this guy, though, even though he began to pull away. There was something in his eyes that told you he deserved to be listened to, that he had seen tragedy like you, that he needed someone right now like you had always needed someone. So, you stayed.

“Look, I know how you feel. My parents died in a freak accident too. Years ago, but it still hurts. It’s like….it’s like there’s no real explanation. Life just decided to screw you over.”

He turned to look at you again, grief and sympathy flooding his eyes. Dang. How can someone who is clearly at the lowest point of his life feel so much for someone else. This guy didn’t deserve your con artist routine.

“Yeah, it’s exactly like that. What happened to your parents?”

“Well, the official statement is that some freak kidnapped them, murdered them by draining their blood. Some serial killer or other crap. I have my own theories though.”

The man’s eyes lit up when you told him that. He looked at you like he had just figured something out. It made you uncomfortable. No one was supposed to figure you out.

“I’m Sam by the way.”

“(Y/N).”

You were suddenly aware of the upbeat music playing throughout the bar, a stark contrast to the type of night the both of you were having. Loosened up by a couple of your own drinks, you grinned at Sam and hopped off your stool. You grabbed his arm, flirting, you said “Hey, let’s dance. You look like you need it.”

He didn’t seem like the kind of guy who usually obliged women like you, but tonight he did. And that decision changed both of your lives forever.

You went home with him that night, well, to his motel room. It struck you odd that a man this close to his family would live in a string of motels like you did. Maybe his brother was all he had, though.

The next morning Sam woke up with a hangover, but you were fine. You joked with him about it, but offered to go get some coffee from the motel dining room. When you came back, Sam was already dressed and packing up.

“Leaving so soon?” you asked. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t disappointed. You’d been with plenty of guys, but it was hurting to see Sam packing up to leave.

He turned his head briefly to look at you, “Yeah, I need to hit the road.”

“Another hunt to get to?” you asked nonchalantly.

He stopped packing and turned around fully, “What?”

“A hunt? You were going on and on about it last night.”

“I- I was?” He looked like he had just seen a ghost.

“Yeah?” You started laughing. “You don’t remember, do you? Don’t look so freaked out. Your secret’s safe with me. I suppose you don’t remember what I told you, then, do you?”

Clearly struggling to piece his drunken memories together, he shook his head.

“Ok, pay attention this time,” you teased.

You set the coffees down on the table, took a seat, and began to relate your theories about your parents’ deaths to him a second time. You talked about how you didn’t think it was the work of a human, how you saw bite marks on their necks when you identified the bodies, how you began to look up vampire lore and saw stories about the real thing, how everyone thought you were crazy, but how you had hung onto your theories desperately because they were the only thing that made your parents’ death make sense. Sure, it was still a big “screw you” from life, but at least you knew there was a chaotic explanation for your parents’ death equal to the chaos it threw you into. When you were finished, Sam was looking at you like you had just ripped his heart out.

“Why do you always look at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like my puppy just died and you’re about to suffocate me in a hug of gross sympathy?” You chuckled, but Sam wasn’t laughing. He was conflicted.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said those things to you last night. I usually keep my work a secret. I’ll just be on my way, though, I won’t bother you anymore.”

“Whoah, what? I was just teasing! I’m sorry. I’m just, I’m not used to people actually caring about me…”

Why did you think Sam cared about you anyway? You were probably just a one-night stand for him. But for some unexplainable reason, he made you feel safe. He actually listened to you. You weren’t “that crazy orphaned chick” around him. Your problems were real to him. He understood. But that safety was dangerous to you. It only meant the possibility of it being ripped away. A chance for heartache and false security.

When you said you weren’t used to people caring about you, Sam softened his gaze and stopped looking torn up inside. Once again those eyes looked at you like an x-ray. You could tell he suddenly saw right through your whole facade. You were vulnerable now. Now you wanted to say bye and walk out the door like Sam had just been about to do and run away from your vulnerability, but gazing into each other’s eyes, you both knew in that moment, you weren’t leaving each other’s sides. No one was walking out that door alone.

You and Sam became inseparable in every sense of the word after that day. You went on every hunt together. He taught you how to fight, improving on what you already knew. He gave you lessons on lore while you drove through the midwest looking for cases and in your down time at the motels. You picked up on everything easily. Sam admired how intelligent you were. Almost as intelligent as him, he teased you. Between hunting for cases, you both looked for leads on the vampires that killed your parents. Based on your description and the crime files, Sam definitely thought they were vamps. He took on the case just as personally as you did and you couldn’t express in words how much that meant to you.

As time went on, you and Sam both began to change. You began to see a light grow in his eyes. You imagined it had been there before his brother’s death. He had explained the situation to you fully now and so you understood his devastation. There hadn’t even been a body to bury. No closure. You kept Sam on his toes, though. You didn’t let him wallow and you gave him a new challenge every day. You were a little reckless, eager to prove yourself. You were a good hunter, though. You took to hunting like you took to Sam, suddenly and without relent. Sam leaned on you for support. You gave him something to look forward to every day. You made him laugh and he could never take his eyes off you. He would hold your face in his hands like it was the most precious treasure in all the universe. He would kiss you as if your lips were his lifeline.

You saw changes in yourself as well. Sam’s love, his intense hopefulness and sincere kindness, began to soften you. His eyes were a window to a forgotten world, a world where you had love, a home, and a purpose. You always told him how he had freed you. You thought you were free the day you turned eighteen, but you were so wrong. This was true freedom. Sam’s love and stability allowed you to grow into a person you never thought possible. You were truly alive now that you had opened yourself to love and everything life had to offer.

You and Sam were tethered together like this from your first day on the road. Not just your bodies, but your souls. You completed each other. Sometimes you gave each other a run for your money, taking risks on the job or giving each other a hard time, but you were also a safe base for one another. You never hunted separately. Your synchronization was your weapon. No monster stood a chance with the two of you together. You hit hunt after hunt with success. Sometimes, after a particularly nasty run, you and Sam would reassure one another of your devotion. “One more fight?” you would ask each other, as if either of you could walk away from hunting or from each other. It became more of an expression of love between the two of you, a phrase that meant you would be there for each other for one more fight for the rest of your lives.

Weeks turned into months and your bond grew. One of your favorite parts of hunting with Sam was traveling down long, lonely roads in the Impala, with nothing but the wind in your hair and the sound of Dean’s old music playing in the car. You would joke with Sam about how you both looked “so cool” in the classic car, both of you having your hair blowing into your eyes and mouth, but the two of you secretly enjoyed watching the other’s hair flying around their face. Those moments were safe and sweet. They were the moments that your love for one another was almost tangible.

It had been almost a year since that fateful night at mthe bar. You were becoming frustrated with the lack of leads about the vampires that murdered your parents, but Sam always reassured you. One day, however, he came back to the motel from doing some research. You had slept in because last night’s hunt was a late one. Sam surprised you with your favorite coffee and donuts, but he had a bigger surprise as well. He had found a lead on the vampires. Your grogginess evaporated instantly as you got out of bed and sat at the table to hear the new information. Sam had found new murder cases like your parents’. They were recent, too, as in last week recent. You took off that morning to the location of the murders, arriving late at night. Sam insisted that you get some sleep, but you couldn’t. You were so close. The anticipation gave you all the energy you needed. So, you and Sam began the hunt that very night.

After researching, and staking out a couple of old buildings on the outskirts of town, you found it. The nest was right there in your sight. It took all of your strength not to sprint out of the car and start chopping their heads off, but you and Sam knew to be smart about this, so you returned to the motel.

The next day you and Sam visited the police station in your usual FBI attire. Any more information you could get would be helpful. That afternoon, you prepared your plan for the attack. You sharpened your blades and loaded your guns, not that the guns would do any good, but they could slow a vamp down if needed. As evening approached, Sam’s phone rang. It was the station calling about another murder victim. This time, Sam left on his own. You wanted to stay to prepare more. He kissed you deeply before he headed out the door and you turned back to your blades. Everything was laid out, ready to go at a moment’s notice. You began to pack it all up and you set the bag by the door. Then Sam called you. He told you that this was definitely the vampires. Anger boiled in your blood. You had to end this right here, right now.

“Sam, I’ll meet you at the site, ok? We need to get there as fast as we can. I’ll take a cab and meet you there. It’ll be faster, ok?” Tonight was one of those nights when you were going to do something reckless.

“(Y/N), I really don’t think that’s a good idea. We have no idea how many of them are there. Just wait for me, ok? (Y/N)?”

You had hung up. You were out the door. You were taking a risk, but you trusted Sam. He would be there just like he always had been. He would have your back.

You got to the abandoned building and crouched behind some shrubbery with your bag, lying in wait for any vamps. A car pulled up, parking in front of the barn and two vampires got out, a male and female, holding hands and laughing. It made you sick. You checked the time. Sam should be here any minute, but you couldn’t wait. Here was your chance. Adrenaline pumped through your heart. You remembered the last moments you had with your parents. The time to kill their murderers was now.

You grabbed one of Sam’s guns for good luck and your sharpest sword and you made your way into the barn. Only Sam wasn’t as close as you thought he would be. And there too many vamps there for one person.

Sam arrived at the warehouse, screeching to a stop. He ran to your stake-out location and saw the opened bag lying on the ground, but you weren’t with it. Sam grabbed a machete from the bag and ran as fast as he could into the barn, but it wasn’t fast enough. He took in the scene. Vampires were dead and you were lying on the ground in a pool of blood.

“Come to meet the same fate as your girlfriend? Hopefully you’ll be as delicious as she was.” A vampire sneered. Two more emerged from the dark.

Sam was filled with blind rage. He began taking out the vampires with a force no man could match. His yells of rage filled the barn. The last vampire dropped to the ground. The sword fell from his hands as he dropped to your side.

“Oh god, oh god,” his hands were shaking, tears were welling in his eyes, dripping onto your lifeless form. “No, (Y/N), stay with me, please, please stay with me. One more fight, right? God, come one, one more fight.”

But it was too late.

* * *

Now Dean understood Sam’s reluctance to speak about this past year. Dean didn’t bother with words. He just put his hand on Sam’s shoulder as tears fell down his brother’s face. He sat there with Sam in the silence because he knew that no kind word could heal this wound. Sam was thankful to have known you for as long as he did and if it wasn’t for Dean’s sudden return, he probably would’ve made a deal with a crossroads demon to bring you back, but he didn’t. You wouldn’t want that. Instead, he would go on for you. Each day he would get up and he would tell himself, “One more fight, for you.”


End file.
